Fate Suncaster
by Burst-in-Flames Tiger
Summary: The Fifth Holy Grail War is set in stone in the Akashic Records. It is inevitable. However, its participants will always be a changing variable. In another time, when the right conditions are met, things can differ very greatly. Sometimes, its difference is as big and great as the sun. [AU]
1. Twisting Minx

**Chapter 1: Twisting Minx**

The rules are simple: Defeat the seven masters and their servants, get the Holy Grail, and wish for something normally unattainable by human hands. It is a process so simple a child can do it if they give their best efforts for it. The Holy Grail War is something that even a child can win, but it does not seem to be something so easily winnable by a child.

To attend the war itself, one must wait for the grail to be suitable for war. Usually, it should happen every sixty years each, but the process this time only takes a decade. It is unusual, something that should not be happening even if the stars would align as the roll of twenty twenty-sided dices rolls a twenty each. Nevertheless, the Holy Grail War arrives ahead of schedule like a march of horses herding shepherds on a good sunny day.

The place: Fuyuki City

The time: Late November

It should give the people participating perspectives on what is about to happen in the war. There is a time limit this time, that being the new year's eve where the year is on the verge of changing. Before then the masters and their servants must defeat each other in a bloody battle and ends them in no less than a month. Realistically, a month is not enough for someone to change their own world, but in this world, someone can win in a war on a far shorter timeframe. The shortest war, to put things in perspective, is no less than two to three days.

Current location: Airport

Current weather: Winter Air Cold

The ride to Fuyuki City continues by a long ten-hour drive through the countryside. It is a city, but at the same time, it is a backwater city. The word city invokes a modern feel of the place, but it is still a small town in the boonies surrounded in bountiful nature. Mountainous range as far as the eye can see with the city itself close to the northern shore of Southern Japanese region. The winter air has just set in and it is freezing, especially during the middle of November.

Not many people seem to be travelling to and from Fuyuki City, but there is a sense of bustling transit town from it. The city consists of two areas: Eastern and Western. One side is supposedly newer than the other side, being the place of a great fire catastrophe twelve years ago, and it is apparent in the map that places tourism on one part of the destroyed town and a community of districts in rural areas on the other side of the city. As it stands, the city is big enough to hold a war, but it does not seem to be able to contain the aftermath of such wars in such a short amount of time.

Maybe it is fate for the duo from overseas to fight in a once ruined land.

"Master," the female on the front passenger seat perks up. "What are you doing being all silent over there? I am somewhat bored here with you being so uncharacteristically quiet. Are you having some problems with your stomach? Is it some kind of stomach irritations?"

The light cherry brown-haired female is wearing a casual dress of black long-sleeve jacket over a striped long-sleeved t-shirt that covers all of her torso and tucked inside the girl's form-fitting cargo pants. With her pants covering her whole legs, she sports a pair of designer-brand black loafer with white-colored socks under it for warmth and comfort. Both hand on the jacket's stomach pocket, she eyes her 'Master' with two beastly yellow eyes.

"My apologies, Caster," the driver called Master replies. The man focuses his thoughts on the road, with his eyes on the road and hands on the steering wheel. "I am not really that comfortable with driving on the other side of the road, you see."

"Is that so?"

"That is indeed so."

Caster's Master is a man of few words. The man is young, though he is slowly hitting mid-thirties in a few months. He has a long black hair, sharp glare in his eyes, and a perpetually frowning face. The man wears a black vest under a red coat, an article of clothing that he takes pride in wearing, and long black slim-fit pants with a white belt around its waist. The man presses the pedal of his car softly with his right foot inside a designer black shoe, with the other foot inside the other shoe ready to hit the brakes whenever something unexpected shows up.

Caster leans harder against the recliner, her face instills a maximum amount of pouting towards her 'Master'. "Look here, Master. At least turn on the radio. Maybe some good tunes can help you relax yourself driving forward." Without much protest or even a response from the driver, Caster immediately presses a button on the radio that turns it on. "There we go."

"I take it the Grail gives you the information for it when you are summoned from it?"

"Yeah, it's pretty neat," Caster says with a straight and smiling face, though soon after she looks to the ceiling with one finger pursing the tip of her red lips. "But even if I said that, some things just don't make much sense for me, like slangs and slurs and stuff. Modern people are really good at inventing new words to use, but are really bad at using their own language for their own good it seems."

"Did the Grail also give you that info?"

"No, I came up with that conclusion myself."

"Is that so?"

"That is indeed so, Master."

The song from the radio is something close to Japanese pop, but not quite. There is some element of jazz mixed into it, to the point that it makes the song relatively feeling like an oldies. Caster seems to notice what the song actually is, and gives the name of the song straight to her Master without hesitation. Then, after a few moments, she seems to regret it when she expressly says, "I should have been quiet about it. Now I can't tease you with it."

"Well, that's not very nice of you first of all," then her Master adds with, "However, too bad for you; I already know the song's title."

"Is that so?"

"That is indeed so."

Caster's ears slowly tingle, her whole body brimming with excitement as thousands of questions rise inside her mind. She feels the ley-line slowly forming together below the car, almost to an unbearable degree. The flow of nature in this part of Japan is insane, and when she looks at her Master, the man too feels the same way as her.

"Amazing, to think that a region is so blessed with potential like this."

"It is an honor for a mage of my level to be able to sense this," Master laughs at his situation, finding something funny that he has not realized before. "I cannot believe I have not felt this kind of feeling the last time I was here. Truly I am still green a decade ago."

"Hey, Master," Caster turns toward her Master again. "Let's win this war, okay?"

"You took the words out of my mouth, Caster."

The black luxury car finally ends its journey on the steep and curvy eastern mountain of Fuyuki. Now on the downhills, the Master and Servant pair can see the town of Fuyuki displaying itself in the panoramic view down below. With the sun rising behind them, a brand new day beckons on Fuyuki for the fifth Holy Grail War.


	2. Entwining Snakes

Waver Velvet has no time for the usual antics in Clock Tower Politics. It is honestly tiring, boring, and most of all, annoying. What Waver need is not another stack of responsibilities to add on top of the unending list of things in his baggage, that is not the hill he wants to die on. However, it is a necessity for El-Melloi II to try his best in understanding what the Clock Tower wants out of him today. Two months ago the mess with the unsolvable magic murder case, the month after and before the present a mass kidnapping, and now it better be a good news or he is going to be angry.

Calm, but extremely angry.

It has been a week straight of eventful days, and during this time of day he just wants to sleep. He wants to sleep from nine to five, but of course, his circle of acquaintance wants to say otherwise. Dressed in his spiff and classy black vest and black pants, Waver Velvet dons the identity of Lord El-Melloi II as he waltzes his way into Rocco Belfeban's office without an aide by his side. Usually, he would walk through the cobblestone floors with a hooded woman three steps behind him at a time. Not today though, and it just makes his mood a little bit sour.

The girl mostly brings with him his needed equipment, and her not being her means Waver has to carry all of the necessities himself. A big black box that he dares not to open from an anonymous source, a pair of white glove encased in sturdy glass case, a briefcase full of necessary documents and other wonderful materials just in case, and a summoning letter he needs to take with him to the collector's room.

He honestly does not know why everyone wants to associate him with the most daunting task despite not being an Enforcer-class of magus. The circumstances of his background is rare, strange, and one can even say it is almost one of a kind, but against names such as Barthomeloi the vampire slayers, Animusphere and their astromancies, or what about any other magus family with a higher pedigree than a Festival like him? It is not a matter of low self-esteem, none of that he parts with ten years ago, but it is because Waver Velvet has no time to partake on something as useless as what the Clock Tower has to offer.

Yet, what opts Reines to push him over the edge to meet with someone so twisted in origin?

With a slow reach for the door, patiently taking his time as to not drop his belongings, he opens the door to find the curtains closed behind Belfeban's desk with the man himself staring at Waver with concern in his eyes. It is not often when Waver can discern what is in the old professor's mind, but at that moment, Waver knows that he has the most concern for him at the present. Waver immediately sets everything he brings on top of the nearest cabinet before scanning the room, making sure he does not forget his special glasses beforehand.

The old coot's fills his room with more curse-inducing items as usual, with the sloppiest management to contain them to boot. However, Waver is studious enough to know that they cannot curse him in the slightest. From the things inside his magic-reinforced cabinets to the trophies the Belfeban man hangs on his walls, there is nothing out of the ordinary.

Waver returns his eyes to Rocco Belfeban and his white bowl-head haircut. His tanned-skin is full of wrinkles as usual, and Waver supposes that it is just a sign of old age and not because he has curses on top of curses trying to make him look like a dried mummy. His combed-down hair along with his half-size bigger fit makes him look like a run-of-the-mill old apothecary clerk. Although, if anything, at least the old man is looking healthy, or else he will feel bad in chewing him out for taking his precious rest time.

He scans the room one more time, taking in the sight of everything in the room. The hydras in the bottle, the cursed charms beside it, the lamp on the ceiling with sealing charms on it, then the person sitting on the chair intended for guests.

The moment Waver spots that someone sitting on the meeting chair of the room, his eyes widens.

"Old man Belfeban," Waver points at the girl sitting on the couch in the middle of the room. "This girl is what you are calling me here for?"

"Yes." The answer is very short and simple that Waver cannot help but to click his tongue in response.

He turns his way to the guest again. He can feel his blood beginning to boil, and heats up the longer he stares at that person. What is that person even doing in the Clock Tower?

Sitting in Rocco's room is a woman of medium-short stature, as tall as Reines at most, who drapes her whole self in the most gaudy-looking fashion style that Waver detests so much. From his ankle-length blonde hair to the innocent expression adorning her face, Waver can only feel how twisted the woman he sees through his lens is. It seems that the feeling is mutual, as the woman herself is slowly looking at Waver as if he has done herself a big mistake.

"Rocco Belfeban," the woman snidely turns to the old man with an intense and hurtful glare in her eyes. "This is who you called the most competent mage you have? He is just a mere Lord who governs Clock Tower's modern magecrafts! Can't you at least pull me someone that ranks higher than a Fes?"

"Francesca," El-Melloi's eyes shifts from the slim, oval face of the blonde-hair before him to the documents she scatters all over the wooden table with glass surface between them. "What are you doing here?"

"Will it hurt to at least say hello, Lord El-Melloi?" the woman named Francesca sighs.

"I grow tired of your bull, Francesca. Out with it, what do you want?"

"Do you need to be so difficult?" She stares deeply inside El-Melloi's eyes, both of them filled with a no nonsense air, and sighs once more. Placing one leg on top of the other, Frransesca crosses both of her arms before her chest and heaves one last big sigh. Her face expressing a mix of exhaustion and boredom, she speaks in a matter-of-fact but curtly voice. "Alright, let me just be brief with this. Those things I sent to you that you brought here. I want you to keep them, go to Fuyuki, and go participate in the Fifth Holy Grail War."

Waver instantly stands up and towers the small sitting figure across the table.

Both of them looks at each other in the eye, Waver not knowing what to say to the documents pertaining the accursed labyrinths which should be of top secret information and Francesca eyeing Waver with an annoyed expression.

"On whose order are you doing this for?"

"The old man Wizard Marshall himself."

"You're bluffing," Waver stares at Francesca, holding his breath in silence. "No, it cannot be true, what does he gain from this? I thought the association has already decided the representatives from the Clock Tower."

"Last minute cancellations are not uncommon in the world of Mages, Lord El-Melloi," Rocco Belfeban interjects from his seat. "That damned Kaleidoscope is probably trying to pull something behind the scenes as usual, and besides," Rocco crosses his arms and leans on his office table. "Don't you want to participate in it again?"

"Still, even if you are an experienced magus proficient with the Holy Grail War, I still have doubts about this," Francesca bit her thumb's nail as she ponders further about it. "Knowing him, he may not be compatible with the servant that damned Zelretch wanted him to summon."

Waver raises a brow, his eyes meeting Francesca's. "The servant he chooses? Am I not allowed to summon my own?"

"No."

"Then I would request that you choose someone else," Waver sighs. He knows that he is being selfish right now, but if he has no chance to summon _him_ again, he might as well give the position to someone more willing. "I am not some pawn you can chuck on the frontlines. I have my own conditions you need to adhere to."

"You don't have a choice either way. The master of Rider has already been decided, and the servant you need is most definitely of a different class entirely. Can your precious Iskandar turn into a strong and powerful Caster enough to combat the world's evil?"

Waver falls silent. Thinking again, the brute is an excellent physical fighter but he doubts that the man himself is fit to be a magician. He does not possess something that enables his summoning as a Caster-class servant. If anything, trying to summon him as a Caster will be a pointless endeavor. Either the Grail will fail his summoning or the Grail will summon someone else that fits the role of a Magical Iskandar who is not the Iskandar he remembers from ten years ago.

Yet, the road ahead feels so clear on what he needs to do next.

"I don't know what you see in him," Francesca begins with a long ramble slowly encroaching on the Lord. "And although your drive to see him is something I should commend you for, the bottom line is no means no. Your sponsor, that _accursed_ girl working with the _damned fool_ old man, wants you to summon a specific servant. The old man wants a servant strong enough to battle the evil of the world, sounds silly to be honest, but so the old man says. In all of this, I am but a middleman."

"A girl and an old man, huh?" Waver is lost in thought until his face brightens with a name crossing his mind. "So that would be Zelretch and the girl from Aoza—"

"Don't say her name, Waver Velvet," the blonde-haired girl instantly directs her full hatred on Waver, and that manages to cut the words coming out of his mouth sharply. The room is quiet, it is as if time is frozen and all molecules in the room stop themselves in place. The feeling is dreadful, horrible, revolting, dry, and threatening, but Waver is not the same that he is ten years ago. He can shrug off the killing intentions just fine, and so he does by raising both of his hands in surrender before apologizing. Hearing the man himself, Francesca dissipates every ill intentions she have for him. "Right, right, moving on with this conversation, do you have anything you want to ask before I go?"

The decision seems to be final, despite Waver's protests

"There is one thing I want to know beforehand. The evil of the world itself, but what does that mean?"

"I don't know, I don't care, I just carry the old man's order" Francesca shrugs, while hissing as if she is in pain, before standing up and leaving. Apparently, she has had enough with this conversation. "However, the catalyst will show you who you are going to summon. I advise that you summon her as soon as possible, just to make sure that you have no issues with each other. And, while I am at it, I will have you adhere to me one thing as an agreement I have with Zelretch."

"And what is it?"

"If you can salvage the greater grail, give it to me."

"What do you need a large supply of mana for?"

"A certain labyrinth you have nothing to do with."

Waver cannot help but look observantly at Francesca as she says what she wants. There are no signs of lying in her, but even Waver cannot tell if she is indeed lying or if she is scheming something else. Nevertheless, the duty presented for him is a big one, and this one duty is not as simple as it sounds. The Holy Grail War will never be simple, not to him, not to anyone else. It is a bitter pill to swallow, but it is best if he swallows the bitter pill now than having someone else steal the chance to consume it.

"Fine, I'll do it," he turns to Rocco and the man has the biggest grin in his mouth right now. "However, what I wish from the grail is none of the Mage's business. Is that clear?"

"You'll probably wish to revive your hubby into this world again," with the biggest grin in the room, Francesca cackles at the downtrodden look that turns flustered for a split-second. "Ah, the forbidden love between two adults past their prime. How indulging that feeling is, though understandable, I would rather wish for my labyrinth research. But hey, what do I care about a Lord's nightlife?"

"He is only a partner and I serve him as a warrior! Do not taint my memories with him with your filthy relationship preference!"

"Whatever you say, Waver Velvet," Francesca waves her hand. "Also, Zelretch says to be in Fuyuki before December starts. You might want to hurry too and end the Holy Grail before the New Year's Eve starts."

"Is that also the Marshall's order?"

Francesca nods before leaving through the front door.

Waver Velvet sighs before slumping down on the couch opposite of where Francesca sits. The door closes with a loud thumping sound, and Waver is forcing back the thumping in his own head. It all comes so unexpectedly that he needs to process it one at a time. First, the summoning catalyst is on the cabinet, the gloves necessary to strengthen the ritual effects are there too, and he needs to summon his servant before the year ends. Arguably, he needs to win the war before the year changes to 2004.

"You might want to book for some tickets now," Rocco says. "Price is going to hike in holiday season, and Japanese fare isn't exactly cheap right now."

Waver looks up the wristwatch on his left arm, a metallic silver off-bran clock he purchases from a magic store in London. The long hand looks to be close to twelve while the short hand points exactly at the number four. It is now four in the morning, the airport clerks will open in three hours lest he wants to pay more via express fare. Nevertheless, this is important, something that he wants to do as effectively as he can.

"I need to make a call first," Waver heaves out a long sigh. "Do you know how I can call that other representative? Where is she currently?"

"Can't say for sure, but I know for a fact that Reines knows more about this than I am," the old man in the room sighs. "You're done here right? Kindly take your belongings and get out, please."

This damned old man is lucky Waver has no more energy to scold the living spell out of him. Picking up the belonging he carries here back to his office is going to be such a pain. Therefore, he pulls out his handy mobile phone and dials a familiar number to the exasperating look from Rocco. After three beeping, the other line picks up with a voice that comes off as a mix of hasty reply and sleepiness.

"Are you in trouble, Sir?"

"Yeah, luggage troubles it seems. Would you mind coming to old man Belfeban's office, Gray?"

There is an affirmative coming from the other line before the line cuts after a goodbye made in haste by the other party. Waver then turns toward Rocco, whose brow lifts to look questioningly at the 12th head of the Magic Department.

"You have any coffee?"

"It's only tea for you and you will like it."


End file.
